Game
by Stitchpunk-Bloodwolf
Summary: Nothing better than playing video games with the one you love. GamTav


Err.

So this might suck. I've been in this rut these past few weeks and I've just been all blarg.

So I wrote this to cheer myself up.

I remember someone (I forgot who) said that it was nearly impossible to combine video games and fluff. I did some sort of 'you underestimate my power' laugh before writing this. I know I could of done better though. But as a gamer, I needed to try dammit.

Plus everywhere I turn in the pbj side of this place, it's sadstuck. I'm breaking the combo.

* * *

You've been waiting all day for this and the anticipation is nearly making you burst at the seams.

Tavros unlocks the front door in no time at all, with you teetering behind him like an excited puppy. With a curse of frustration he finally gets the worn door knob to turn, granting you access to the old house. The minute Tavbro opens the door , you bolt inside, throwing your shoulder bag by the sill and darting to the living room, pulling out the couch cushions and settling them on the ground in front of the TV, with you perching yourself on one of them, legs crossed. You turn to your boyfriend, who is grabbing another cushion and nesting himself next to you, and you bounce in place, impatient with the sluggish pace he's going. Tavros paps you on the head with a cheeky grin, stilling you, and crawls over to the fairly large entertainment center (not without you copping a feel of that nice ass with a 'honk'. It's almost criminal not to), pulling out a couple of game cases left out for this simple occasion.

"What, do you want to play, Gamzee?" He asks, booting up the Playstation 3. He grabs a controller and the health warning fades to the sign-in screen. Tavros quickly signs in and the main menu is present.

You get slightly distracted by the slow waves of colors crossing the screen, but you quickly get back to the question at hand. You shrug. "Dun really up and care, Tav." You answer merrily, grinning from ear to ear. "Your motherfuckin' choice." You add dutifully, like a good boyfriend should. Tav giggles at your antics before reassigning himself to the Sony console. After few moments or rummaging about and switching, the game is set and the epic orchestra BGM booms around the two of you in surround sound.

Skyrim. Your face nearly splits in two as the title screen loads up as Tav crawls back to you and you wrap your arms around Tavros' waist and lay your head on his shoulder. Your favorite. He presses start and just like that, the magic begins.

If you had to be honest with yourself, you suck at video games. The fact was chiseled in the stone the moment he kept damaging himself with his own Wobboffet in Super Smash Bros. But it's not like you don't enjoy them at the same level Tavros does. Whenever he feels the anger, the frustration, the amusement and, your favorite, the wonderment, you feel it too. You don't need the controller in your hands, you just need a large TV, and preferably Tavbro next to you.

To you, video games are an art, and anyone who disagrees can suck your pale dick. As an self-proclaimed artist yourself, you fully support this statement. Art captivates- it intrigues you, pooling the emotions of the viewers by the medium of choice. When Tavros creates a new character in an RPG, it reminds you of the first brushstroke on a blank canvas. When he levels up, seamlessly progressing through the game at every turn, it's like every stroke of the brush perfectly falling into place without flaw. When Tav dies and with a rueful grunt, reloads the game, you take it as a small error, quickly corrected by painting over it or restarting. When he beats the game, and the credits roll slowly up the screen, its finally finishing that colorful piece you slaved over for days.

Tavros laughs every time you mention it. It's not in a mocking way, you know he sees it too, just not in as large of scale.

For Tav, it's a way of escape. To transfer himself to a world that's nonexistent. It's the same as reading one of his fantasy novels. When he turns on the game for the first time, he gets so enthralled, he barely notices anything around him, except you (hopefully, you're not exactly subtle) and the game in front of him. You especially love it when he makes those little faces at the screen when ever he gets too into it. It's almost as mesmerizing as his sex face. Almost. Nothing beats the o-face.

However, on some days, things just don't go that far.

Tavros mashes the controllers triggers, swinging the polygon weapon at the behemoth dragon taking up almost the whole screen. He lets out a few grumbles of aggravation, and you lightly laugh, earning a rude glare from your boyfriend.

"You try beating, an Elder," he taunts, playfully shoving the controller in your hands.

You giggle and push it back, nuzzling deeper into Tavbro's shoulder. "Nah, I'm all up and content ith watching you get your motherfuckin' fail on." He laughs, trying to shove you away from him, but you held a death grip on his arm. You even gave him a quick bite on his neck to accent your point of 'I ain't movin' from this fuckin' spot.' He yelps, chortling as he attempts to force you away from his neck harder. During the playful struggle, you 'accidentally' un-pause his game. Tavros curses and you gleefully chuckle as you watch you boyfriend scuffles to gain control of the fight. He dies immediately, his wood elf character rolling down the hill like a rag doll and sends you into a loud laughing fit.

"Shoulda up'd your motherfuckin' Health, bro!'

Tav retaliates by smearing your face paint.

Eventually the two of you soothed yourselves down, resuming the silent ambiance you had prior. A part of you prefers this. Peaceful silence with the one you love while playing video games. It's not a romantic dinner in Paris under the Eiffel Tower, but it's close enough.

Early in the evening, Tavros' father came home, two boxes of Church's chicken in his hand for dinner, to you and his son curled up in a blanket nest in front of the TV, the screen showing Tavros' player looking up at the bright colorful lights across a dark artificial sky. We were at peace. If not at a dork-ish level. The male parental unit sighed, shaking his head before going to the kitchen and setting up the table for dinner.

* * *

Gawh, I hate the ending.


End file.
